Darkening Romance
by TrilliandZaphod
Summary: Detective Annabeth Chase knows of the word love, but she refuses to let it apply to her. Living in her own, dark version of the world, she goes about her daily life with something...missing. But soon..she realizes...am I in love? AU, Rated T but possibly with a few gory(ish) scenes.
1. Chapter 1

Sirens wail loudly in the background, and some would say that that ruins their concentration, but I'm so used to it that I'm able to just block it out.

I stand over the body inside the taped-off rectangle of the scene. A young, twenty-five-year-old man has died tonight.

I look down at his body. He has two bullet wounds, one on his shoulder and the other on his chest. By the time we had arrived, he was already dead.

The ambulances haven't arrived yet. On average, I've found pizza deliveries come slightly faster than ambulances. Quite amusing but also worrying at the same time. But, we had told them he was already dead, so they are probably not in the biggest hurry.

Officer Grover comes up to me. He is only slightly taller than me, in his late thirties and with a short brown beard. He strokes it thoughtfully. "What we got 'ere, Chase?" He asks, in between chews of his gum. Officer Grover always chews gum, sometimes of the weirdest flavours. Today, judging from the smell is pineapple and chilli. Yuck.

"Well, a dead body with two gunshot wounds, one on the shoulder and the other on the chest, as you can see,"

Grover sighs. "Poor lad, his girlfriend is devastated, you see 'er over there with the brown hair? That's her. It will probably be a while before we can question her without a meltdown. I don't blame 'er quite frankly."

"Did you call the ambulances?" I ask.

"Yeah, but I told them he's already dead. Maybe if we had been called sooner then he could have lived. I guess they aren't hurrying too much,"

I sigh. "Makes sense, I suppose."

I take in the scene. The man lies half on the pavement and half on the road. Judging by the position of his arms and legs, he had jumped in front of his girlfriend and had taken two bullets. Brave man.

An ambulance arrives, the lights on its siren on but making no noise. Two men step out with a stretcher. They hoist his body onto it and wheel him into the vehicle. They don't hurry too much, they already know he's dead. His girlfriend follows, along with a young officer who I don't know.

The ambulance starts its engine and starts driving. Officer Grover waves over to me. I reluctantly make my way over to him.

"You going with 'em? You're probably gonna wanna see the autopsy,"

I smirk a little. "I know how to do my job,"

"Well," he says, checking his watch. "We're gonna look around a little, you know, to see if we can find any evidence."

I see an officer getting into a full-body plastic suit. If they were going to try and find any DNA, they had to make sure not to contaminate it.

I hold up a small plastic evidence bag with two cigarette butts. "I found these earlier,"

"Well done Chase," he says, holding out his hand.

"These are mine, get your own evidence," I say. Grover's face falls a little and he looks at me sternly.

I laugh. "I'm joking. Let me study them for a couple days then I'll send them over. I think they might not belong to the killer, I think he would have been a lot more clever than that."

"Probably. But I want you to still study them. Bring them over to us and we'll see if the DNA matches with anyone on the records."

I nod and start walking off. Grover and I didn't bother with hellos or goodbyes, they just wasted time.

"You're done here?" He asks. I turn and nod. I had already done all I needed to do. I got in my car and started driving. I look at the time. 11:47.

I take a back road and park outside a cafe, but I don't go in. I turn off the lights. I had lied to Grover, I needed to go back to the scene, but not with people around. I estimate they'll look for about fifteen minutes and then spend around six packing everything up. Then it'll take them around three to get going. Then the driver would take a different road to a different cafe. I know it won't be to this one.

I shiver, but I don't turn on the heating. Turning on the engine would result in noise, and I don't want to draw attention to myself in any way. Anyway, you think better and are more alert in the cold.

I check the time again. 12:12. If my estimates are correct, they should have left a minute ago. I wait two minutes to be safe, and then I start the car. I drive up to the scene and park. I step out of the car. My predictions were right.

I walk through a small puddle. It had started to rain. I walk to exactly where the man was lying sprawled on the ground.

It is in these moments of time where reality seems to shift a little. Even the most real, down to Earth and logical people will admit they have felt it. Everyone has, and everyone will. Reality often shifts in dark parks, your house at 4 am and in empty school hallways. We've all felt it and we all will.

I stand almost exactly where I'd been standing when the man was there. It seemed almost long ago, the loud sirens, the crying girlfriend, officer Grover and the dead man. If anyone were to come now, they could never guess any of that was ever here.

Then, he steps out of the shadows. He always does that, one moment he's not there, and the next minute he is.

"Hello, Annabeth Chase."

I breathe in sharply. I don't like people using my first name. His lips

barely move when he forms the words, and they seem to slip out of his mouth like smoke from a chimney.

"I see you've returned," I say, trying to maintain a cold, sly tone like his.

"Annabeth, you're the one doing the returning. I was merely waiting,"

"But why are you here? The body was taken ages ago. You are late."

Death shakes his head. "I could almost ask you the same thing. What are _you_ doing here, Annabeth? Have you come to talk to me? This isn't the first time we've met,"

"That's not the point. I came back for...another reason." I feel my cheeks redden slightly. I pull my scarf over the lower part of my face, but I am sure he noticed. Death notices anything and everything.

"See you next time, then," he says. Then he disappears. Why _have_ I come here? Was it to see death? To me, Death just came and...did his thing. We never really spoke much, and we didn't need to. I usually don't even look at him. He'd just take the body and leave. We never bothered with the usual greetings or any sort of small talk

But tonight? Tonight's different...in a way. In what way? I can't really pinpoint it.

Still in thought, I get into my car. I start the engine and drive off into the night.

* * *

 **Authors note: So what do you think? This story is a little different from my usual style, but if you like dark, mysterious but romantic(ish) stories, then this might just be for you.**


	2. Chapter 2

"So Annabeth, when was the last time we all had a night out together? It was around three months ago, wasn't it? We should really go out more together,"

I and my best friend Piper are sitting in a coffee shop downtown. We don't often do this, but whenever we do, our conversation always turns to my social life.

"Piper, how many times must I tell you, It's very hard for me to get a free evening. I'm the best detective in town, and what if I'm in the club and I don't hear my phone ring? What if it's like last night when it was an emergency? I need to be alert all day and every day, and I don't have scheduled lunch breaks."

Piper takes a sip from her coffee. She is really pretty, and she doesn't even wear that much makeup. She and I met at University when we were flatmates. Being her flatmate was fun, but sometimes she'd leave piles and piles of washing up and her clothes everywhere. Other than that, she was a great flatmate, and we are still friends to this day.

"Yeah but Annabeth, you really have to try and put yourself out there a little. Just because you have your job, it doesn't mean you can't have fun sometimes,"

"I do have fun. I find my job fun," I say in my defence.

Piper sighs. "Have you ever wondered that you might be lacking anything in life?"

"Like what?" I ask, wrapping my hands around my coffee cup to warm them up as some chilly wind blows into the cafe.

"Well, maybe a social life?"

"I do have a social life! What about Luke?"

Luke is my boyfriend. **(A/N I am not a Lukabeth shipper, but trust me, you'll be happy it's Luke. Now back to the story...)** He is a perfectly good man, he's kind, funny, smart and independent. I don't find anything wrong with him. Unfortunately, Piper doesn't feel the same way.

"Okay, when was the last time you've seen Luke? Two months? Three?"

Oh yes, I forgot to mention the fact he lives in Australia.

"Two months. Anyway, we're just fine with doing long distance anyway."

"Yeah but still, just because he's your boyfriend, it doesn't mean that we can't go out sometimes!"

"Yeah, but it's really hard for me to get free time. I need to always be ready for emergencies."

Piper nods but doesn't say anything. I down the last drop of my coffee, I stand up and put a five-pound note on the table. "The coffee's on me," I say, "But can you please pay for me? I need to go to the police station now,"

"Of course Annabeth. See you soon!" Piper waves and blows me a kiss as I walk off.

I hoist my bag higher onto my shoulder as I walk up the street. I enter the police station, nodding at the guard. He knows me well. I go up the stairs to where I know Grover will be. I knock and enter.

"Ah, Chase. Did you look at that evidence?" He asks me.

"Yeah, they probably don't belong to the killer though." I put the plastic bag on his desk. "He wouldn't have been so careless. But we do know that they are recent. Let me show you a picture I took,"

I pull out my phone and show him pictures that I took last night. One of them shows one of the cigarette butts, clearly still smoking. It was obviously very recent when I too it. The other butt is a little older, but still from last night.

"Interesting. I'll run them through the DNA scanners, and see if any of the DNA matches anything on our records," He says. He takes the bag and sits back in his chair. "Anything else to report?"

"Well, I know where the killer shot from. I'll show you," I show him another picture, this time showing the whole scene. I point to a spot on the side of the road opposite the body.

"You see there? That's where I think the killer shot from. You see how the body is positioned? That's why I think it was there."

Grover grins. "Good job Chase, keep it up."

"Can I go now?" I ask

"Yes, of course. But one last thing. Tonight you get a night off. From now on, you'll have one night off every two weeks. I've been talking with Piper, and I agree with her. You can't be so caught up with your work that you barely go out. We can handle not having you around one night every two weeks."

"But Grover, you don't get it. I-"

"You nothing. It is official, and it is not up for negotiation. Is that clear?"

I nod. I wordlessly walk out of his office. I don't know whether I'm happy about this night off, but I am now sure that Piper will drag me out every time I have one. Great.

"Coming over in 15 mins. Hazel's coming too. Get ready." Reads Piper's text. How did I guess?

I sit in my living room on my sofa and I open my laptop. Suddenly I remember, this is supposed to be my evening off. I presume Piper won't be too happy if she sees me working. I close the laptop.

Very soon, I hear my doorbell ring, and I answer it to Piper and Hazel. After hugging and all that, we head to the bedroom to get ready.

"Anna, did you see the getting ready part of my text?" Piper asks. That's a little hypocritical as she isn't exactly ready herself.

"Well I wanted to wait for you guys," I say.

"Where are those outfits I bought you?" She asks. Almost a year ago Piper dragged me shopping for some club outfits, a little against my will.

Piper pulled out one of the short, flashy, glittery dresses from my cupboard. "Annabeth that's perfect! You're so wearing that!" Says Hazel excitedly. We all change into our outfits.

"So, are we rea-"

"Makeup time!" Says Piper. Oh god no.

She and Hazel drag me into the bathroom and Piper opens her makeup bag. I reluctantly agreed to them putting on just some light mascara.

" _Now_ we are ready," says Piper. "Let's go,"

We walk down the stairs and onto the street, where a taxi is waiting. I think about suggesting we take my car, but I decide against it, for Piper's sake. We all crowd in the back seats of the car.

"Hi, can you please take us to Fabric? You know the club in St Clerkenwell?" Asks Piper politely

"Of course ma'am," he says, and starts driving.

Hazel turns to me. So Annabeth, how is everything? You know, with Luke, and stuff."

"Nothing new to report. How's Frank?"

"He's great. He came home yesterday with two puppies in his arms and a big grin on his face. He just can't get enough of adopting stray animals! We've now got five dogs, three cats and also a python,"

"A python! No way! You have to let us come and see it Hazel! And the new puppies!" Says Piper excitedly.

"Certainly," Hazel says. We chat for a short while, and then, two minutes after what I had calculated, we arrive at the club. Piper pays the driver.

We hop out of the car and get into the line for the club.

"Why's there a line?" I ask. Usually, there isn't one.

"Because this isn't just any old club Annabeth. This is one of the best here, in London. I wasn't going to just take us to any old place on this special night!"

Hazel nods. "Tickets cost fifteen pounds and drinks another seven per person. This isn't just any old club," she says.

"Wow...I owe you guys some," I say.

"Annabeth, the way you can pay us back is enjoying tonight, and enjoying all the nights that you get off,"

Even though I don't need to, I smile, just a little. "Alright," I say.

 **Author's Note: That's all for this chapter guys, next one's coming soon.**

 **Leila**


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up early, as usual. Despite the time I fall asleep, I'll always wake up at the same early time, without needing an alarm to wake me up.

Vague and distinct memories come back from last night... the others pulling me forcefully onto the dance floor, a little bit of drinking, but not to the point of drunkenness. The last time I got drunk was...well, never mind that.

I distinctly remember some girl crying in the bathroom and a slightly intoxicated Piper assuring her that it will be okay. Apparently, it's a typical thing that goes on in women's bathrooms, but I haven't much experience.

I lie in bed for a few more moments, and then I get out of bed. I make myself a cup of ginger cinnamon tea and I open my laptop. I received an email from Grover, letting me know that, as expected, the cigarette butts don't match any of the DNA on their records. He also asked how last night went, and I reply saying that it was fun and thanking him for the nights off.

I get up from my laptop and go to my window. In my living room, I have two large windows looking out to London. In my high up flat, I get a good view of lots of London, including the London Eye and the River Thames. I watch an early boat lazily cruise down the river, and go under the opened Tower Bridge.

My phone suddenly rings. Luke. I answer it and turn on the speaker. Putting the phone to your ear is kinda bad for you. **(True fact, look it up)**

"Hey, Luke! How's it going?" I ask

"Hey, Anna. It's great here, getting really nice and warm here. And how are you? Do anything fun lately?"

He always asks that question when we call. He, like Piper, encourages me to get out more and seems happy when I do. He obviously trusts me a lot, and the trust is mutual, and essential for long distance relationships.

"Yes, actually. Officer Grover has now given me a free night every two weeks, it was Piper's idea. Little did I know they were working behind my back to get me out. Anyway, I had my first one last night and Piper and Hazel dragged me to the club,"

"That's really great!" He says, "You really deserve some time out. Sometimes you have a tendency to get very caught up in your work and you forget to enjoy yourself,"

"I do enjoy myself. I find my work rather enjoyable,"

"Yes, but that's a different type of fun. You know, often, when I'm with my friends, we talk about how we met our current and previous partners,"

I smile. "What did you say?"

"Well after hearing stories of summer flings, fancy clubs and restaurants, I couldn't really rival them with our story,"

"What's wrong with the way we met?"

"I don't know, it's a little anticlimactic,"

I don't see anything anticlimactic about it, and it's quite a long story, a story for another time.

"Anyway, I invited some friends over and they've just arrived, talk to you soon?"

"Yes," I say, "Bye," I hang up.

I walk back from the window and go back to my laptop. I work for a couple hours, and then I get a message from Piper. "Last night was sooooo much fun! So hungover tho" and then a long list of heart and smiley face emoticons.

This is one thing I've never understood. Why do people get drunk if the next morning they'll just wake up feeling crappy? And also, alcoholism is terrible for your body and brain and has many long-term effects. Why do people do it?

I reply, not expressing my opinion on such matter, instead, telling her, truthfully, that I enjoyed last night. Suddenly, I receive another email from Grover, titled Girlfriend. A pretty weird title for an email. I quickly scan it, and then I shut down my computer.

I run upstairs, get ready quickly and then run out of the door, pausing only to grab my coat.

I run outside, and then start up my street at a brisk pace. The air is chilly this morning, and people are walking down the street all wrapped up, holding warm cups of coffee.

I turn left and I suddenly stop, startled. A man in a long, black, slightly shimmery cloak stands on the side of the street. Maybe floated would be a more appropriate word.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the cold air passes through my body. I look slightly closer at him without walking forward.

I can't make out his face, and he seems to be looking around at all the passers-by in the street.

My heart starts to pump. He looks a lot like- No. It can't be. Who is he? He reminds me a little of-

A man flicks a coin into a box by his feet. The man in the cloak nods at him. Suddenly, I realise. Lots of people go out onto the street dressed up and stand posed for something, and people can take pictures with them. I couldn't recognise his face as he's wearing a mask. My heart starts to slow and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Even though the station is on the side I'm already on, I quickly cross the road to avoid him.

 _Being pretty childish, eh, Annabeth? He's just a man on the street. He's nobody_ A voice in the back of my head sneered. I ignore it.

I finally reach the police station and I open the door. The warm air comes as a relief, and my body seems to relax slightly. I enter Grover's office, but he's not there. Frowning a little, I go to the secretary, who's typing furiously at her computer.

"Can I help you?" She asks me, looking up at me through her bejewelled spectacles.

"I'm here to see Gro- Officer Grover. He sent me an email telling me to come as soon as I can,"

"Ah yes, officer Grover is in Meeting room C, two floors up, the fourth corridor on the right and it's the third room on the left. You can't miss it,"

"Thank you," I say, and I start up the stairs.

A few weirdly decorated staircases and corridors later, I reach Meeting room C. I open the door and find Grover and a woman sitting at a table in a small room. Not much of a meeting room. The girl sitting opposite Grover is about his height, has long, black hair and eyes and looks a little sad. In a few seconds, I realise that she's the girlfriend of the man who was shot a couple days ago. Normal for her to look sad, I suppose. Maybe she even-

"Ah, Annabeth, please come in. Sit next to me, here," says Grover, interrupting my train of thought. He pulls up a chair next to him and I sit in it, not taking my eyes off her.

"So Annabeth, this is Miss Avila Ramírez-Arellano, and she's here-"

"Please, call me Reyna," she says.

"Alright, Reyna here, as you maybe already guessed, is the girlfriend of Jason Grace." I heard her breathe in sharply when she heard his name.

"She came here and said she would tell us what happened," finishes Grover.

"Yes," she says. "I remember the night very clearly

as if it just happened," she says.

I pull out a notepad and pen. "Do you mind?" I ask her, indicating them.

"Not at all," she says. "Anyway, allow me to begin. It was the night of our two year anniversary..."

 **Authors Note: Ooh, cliffhanger. I would continue, but it's been a while since I've updated this story, so I decided to end here.**

 **Chocolate, sprinkles, death and destrucion,**

 **Leila**


	4. Chapter 4

"It was the night of our two year anniversary. We had gone out to a pub, just for some celebratory drinks with friends. We finished around eleven o'clock. Some of them took cabs, and another two walked the opposite direction." She pauses for a breath. I jot down a couple words on my notepad.

"We were almost home, and we were turning onto our street and I noticed a person, wearing a dark hoodie, probably a man, walking on the opposite side of the street. I didn't notice any facial features. Anyway, he matched our walking speed, and I didn't say anything to Jason, but I think he noticed. Actually, I know he did."

"Who was walking closest to him?" I cut in.

"Jason," she says. "That's why I didn't see the man so well."

"And how long, approximately, had he been walking with you?" Asks Grover.

"I only noticed him as we turned onto our street. He seemed to come from the other side of the road and turn in at the same time as us." Reyna replies. She wipes a small tear from her eye and continues.

"Then, the man pulled out a gun, and, you know, shot him," she sniffed a little. "He jumped in front of me, although I don't think it would have hit me anyway." She sniffs, louder this time. Visible tears slowly fall from her eyes. Grover nudges a box of tissues in her direction. She takes one.

We are silent for a moment. By now, I have a full page of scribbly notes about her story.

"Then, I screamed, and a sleek, black Porsche drove by, the man leapt into the back seat and it sped off. I didn't catch the full number plate, but I'm pretty sure it had a two and a five in it. Then, I ran into my building, awoke the landlady, who called you."

Reyna wipes the tears from her eyes and hiccups a little. Grover coughs and looks at me.

"Do you have any questions?" Reyna asks and glances at her watch.

I do have a few, but it seems a little heartless to ask them now. I hold them back.

"I would like to ask a few questions about the man if you don't mind," says Grover.

"Of course not,"

"Were you two the only ones on the street?"

"Yes, I didn't see anyone else, and there were no cars. Some of the window lights were on, so maybe someone saw from the window."

"And approximately how tall was the man?" I ask

"Around one metre eighty-five ***** , I'd say. I didn't get such a good look at him though."

We are silent again. "Any further questions?" Grover asks me. I look down at my notes and shake my head.

"Okay, thank you so much, Reyna, this has been a great help to us."

"You're welcome," she says. She tries to smile a little but doesn't really manage. She nods at us, then gets up and leaves.

"So what have you got?" Grover asks me. I hand him my notepad. He reads the notes and nods.

"Very good. I thi-"

"Do you think her recollection was completely accurate?" I butt in. "It has been a couple days. Her memory could have faded a little. She might have tried to forget it. After all, who would want to remember the night their boyfriend was shot?"

"Before you arrived, she told me that she remembers it as clear as day. I trust her completely,"

To this I say nothing. I am not completely sure if her memory is completely correct. She might have forgotten small details that might have seemed unimportant to her, but make all the difference when trying to solve a crime.

"Well I'll be off," I say, standing up. "I'll send you a picture of these notes, and I'll study them. We need to find who did it." I say, determinedly.

"Yes, we do. Do you think Reyna will be alright?"

"In what sense?" I ask.

"Well, I don't want her to, you know, because of Jason."

We had both heard and encountered cases where someone commits suicide almost straight after their partner dies.

"Well I think if she was going to do it, she would have done it by now," I say, "And anyway, she volunteered to come and talk to us. I think she'll be fine,"

"Says the least empathic person I've met," he retorts.

I stare at him. "Look, if you want to do something, or send someone to monitor her, then fine. But I have a small feeling that will make her feel worse. But then again, I'm just the least empathic person you've ever met."

I leave the room. Grover and I don't usually speak to each other like that. In fact, we have never done that. I nod to the receptionist as I leave the building.

I check my watch. 12:37. I start home, but this time I take a detour, so as not to see the man in the cloak. I don't understand myself. I didn't think it, I just did it. Why? There's nothing wrong with him. I turn back from my detour, and I force myself to walk the way I came.

I near the corner where he was standing. I just have to turn around, and he'll be there. My heart starts beating, with excitement or fear I do not know.

I slowly walk around the corner, keeping an eye out. Suddenly I notice that he's not even there. I breathe out. Why did I want to see him anyway? What is wrong with me?

Sighing, I walk forward, on the lookout for the cloaked man, in case he's standing on another corner.

I reach home, shivering a little. I unlock the door and climb up the stairs to the 8th floor where my apartment.

Out of breath, I reach the door and unlock it. I step inside, and a look of sheer horror crosses my face.

 **Author's note: Dun dun dun...cliffhanger I know. Slightly shorter chapter because the other one came out very recently.**

 **Please don't forget to favourite, follow and review if you enjoyed.**

 ***I know British typically use the imperial system, but I'm sticking with the metric system because that's what I use.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Ransacked. That is the only word that I can think of that fits the state of my apartment, and even that's an understatement.

My apartment has been turned upside down. Any ornaments I own are on the floor or broken. My sofa and armchair are flipped onto their side, and my table and chairs are upside down. Papers litter my floor and my laptop is lying on the floor, the screen smashed. Framed pictures are all dangling lopsided off their hooks if not on the floor. Every draw in the fallen dresser is open, and the things that were inside it are strewn about.

Someone had been here. Are they still here?

I listen closely. I don't hear any noise from the other rooms. No, I think they're gone. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. _Someone probably came here looking for something. But who? And what?_

I gingerly walk around my apartment, trying not to dislodge anything. I need to leave the evidence exactly as it is for the investigation to go well.

 _Somebody was searching for this thing, and they obviously didn't care about being discreet about it at all._

The other rooms are the same, upturned furniture everywhere, my possessions all over the floor and broken. Except for one thing. A picture of Luke and I sitting in front of the Eiffel tower on our trip to Paris. Luke's smiling face has a line of dry yellow paint over it. I examine it. It had been placed so I'd spot it, I know it. I put it back. Why did they take the time to do that? I put it back where it was. Previously, I had thought that walking around the apartment would give me some answers. But what it did instead was the very opposite.

I pull out my phone and take pictures of everything. I send them to Grover and call him.

It rings for a few seconds and then he picks up.

"Hello? Annabeth? What is it?"

"I sent you a bunch of pictures, did you see them?"

"Look at them please," I say with a tone of urgency.

"Oh god," he says. "Is that your flat?"

"Yes, it's completely upside down!" I say.

"I can see that. Is the person who did it still there?"

"No, I've looked everywhere. They must have had a key to my door or window because all of my windows are intact."

"Annabeth, I'll be right over. I'll bring some others as well. Call me if anything happens,"

He hangs up. I wait. Even though the station isn't so far, it seems like an eternity until Grover arrives.

His knock on the door startles me. I get up and open it. He's there, as well as a couple other officers. They immediately break off and start going round my apartment.

"You don't mind, do you?" Grover asks, referring to them. I shake my head. He takes a few steps forward and slowly turns his head, surveying the scene of my torn up apartment.

"Wow," he says.

"Wow is all very well Grover, but we need to find who did it, and why they did it. I have never had a case like this. Have you?"

He shakes his head in response. "Have you found any clues?" He asks. I think of the picture of Luke and I and my stomach sinks.

"Yes," I say, after a minute of hesitation. "Follow me."

I lead him to my bedroom, carefully avoiding the shards of broken glass that litter my corridor floor. We get to my bedroom, and I show him the picture.

He examines it and traces his finger over where the line of paint is. He doesn't say anything. I hold my breath.

After a long moment of silence, he speaks. "This line of paint across his head, it has to mean something, and it can't be good. Luke, where is he now?"

"Australia."

"Alright. I fear that Luke might now be in danger."

The shock is so great, that I have to sit down on my bed, which is still upright but without any sort of bedcovers. _Luke? In danger? How? And from what?_

Grover seems to read my mind. "Think of the redbrands, you must've heard of them."

 _Of course! The redbrands. How could I have forgotten them? The redbrands are a sort of mafia gang, that spreads across the whole world. The marks they make to communicate are called 'brands'._

"Nobody can translate the marks because it's confinded to Redbrand members only, and they can't leak it to anyone outside,"

I shudder as I think what might happen if one of the members tried to. Probably severe torture and death.

"But what about Luke? If he's in danger, what are we going to do about it?" I ask. I try and sound casual about it, but I can't keep all the nervousness out of my voice.

"He'll have to leave Australia. That's the first place they'll look. And he can't come here, they'll suspect here next, putting you in danger as well. No, we need to take him somewhere else. And you can't go with him," says Grover.

"But why? What if I want to be with him?"

"Annabeth, I need you, more now than ever. Your flat, the murder, the redbrands...You can't leave now. We need you," I could sense the urgency in hie voice.

I open my mouth to reply, but I am interrupted by another officer who walks into the room.

"Sir, we've found something," he says.

We follow him through the corridor and into my kitchen, which is equally as ransacked as any other room in my flat.

The third officer is examining a small, triangular shaped piece of paper. She looks at us when we come in.

"Sir, I found this in front of the fridge," she hands it to Grover. We look at it.

It is the corner of a picture, and we can only see the corner of someone's head, and the rest had been torn off.

"We haven't found the rest of the picture in here, but maybe it's in one of the other rooms," she says.

I suddenly realise what the picture is. "That's the corner of my mother's head!" I say. Grover looks at me with his eyebrows furrowed.

"I have a picture of my mum holding her famous pear cake on my fridge, and this is the corner of it, I'm completely sure."

"Now why would they have torn it?" Asks Grover.

The officer checks his watch. "Sir, the appointment starts in ten minutes, we need to head back," he says.

I wonder what appointment, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Right Annabeth, I'm really sorry, I wish I could stay, but this is another very pressing matter. Send me a message if you find anything more,"

I nod and I lead them to the door. I thank them, and they leave.

I go back into the kitchen, where the corner of the photo lies on a countertop. I pick it up and look at it again. _Why did they rip this picture? Is it still in my flat or does the thief or thieves have it?_ Many questions build up in my head, but one specific one floats to the top. _What were they looking for? And did they_ _find it?_

I decided I'd better search for more clues and clear up my apartment while I'm at it.

I go into the living room and pick up the pieces of a vase that my brother's mother-in-law gave me. It's truly horrible, so I'm almost glad they broke it. Unfortunately, the plant won't survive. After checking that the pieces are all there, I throw it away along with another broken vase.

I pick up all the papers, checking each individual one. All of them are mine, some newspaper clippings, documents, postcards and letters. They could have taken any of my official documents without me noticing as there are lots.

I put the papers down on the table who's position I restored. Snippets from my last conversation with Grover float around my head. _I fear that Luke maybe in danger._ I halt my attempts to tidy this place. I have to contact Luke. I have to talk to Grover. I have to fo more research on the Redbrands. I go to get my laptop, but then I remember that it is broken. Great. Suddenly I realise where I can go. I get my coat and leave.

 _Death stands on the balcony of a building, looking down on the high street. Death observes people often. He isn't interested in them, and whatever they might be doing. What he's interested in is the life inside them._

 _Most people he sees have a bright, burning light of life inside of them. Occasionally, someone who is old or fatally sick would pass by, with a very dim light inside of them. The dimmer the light, the clearer they can see Death. Nobody but a few people take notice of death._ _Nobody but a few people can._

 _If the light is low and barely burning in someone, it's time for Death to pay them a visit. And if you were on his list, there is only one way to get off it._

 _Death thinks of the person he knows who has a very small light inside her. She isn't old, and not fatally sick. She is one of the few who sees him. Death doesn't know why some people are like this, they just are, and they don't even know it._


	6. Chapter 6

_He slides the hairpin slowly through the keyhole of Annabeth Chase's front door. He looked back over his shoulder so much, that it looked like he had a twitch._ _He wriggles the hairpin around a little until he heard the familiar click of the lock opening. He quickly pushes open the door, walks through it and shuts it._

 _He scans the apartment. It is a nice, well designed place with various pieces of artwork hanging on the walls. He pulls out his knife and slashes the canvases, leaving marks on the wall. He tears them down._

 _No, he needs to stop. His goal is not to wreck the apartment but to find what he's looking for. He goes to a chest of drawers and opens them all, flinging papers everywhere. Old letters, documents, reports, magazines and newspaper clippings fly everywhere, but they're not what he's looking for._

 _"What the hell are you doing! Stop theif!" Screams a woman from behind him. The landlady stands at the door with her hands over her mouth._

 _But he's fast. Very quickly, he stands at her with his sword at her throat. "Make one move woman, and I will not hesitate to kill you," he snarls._ _"Now I want you to back up slowly, and go back down to your flat, and maybe I'll spare you."_

 _The landlady doesn't move for a moment. Then suddenly, she ducks under his sword and punches him in the gut. He staggers back in great pain, she launches another blow at him but he dodges and flips the table at her. She dodges and throws a vase at him. She knows Annabeth never liked that vase anyway._

 _He flips the sofa in her direction, and she stumbles over it. She picks up one of the slashed paintings and throws it like someone would throw a frisbee._ It hits him hard in the _stomach and he staggers back in pain. It is evident_ _evident that she doesn't care about the state of Annabeth's apartment_.

 _He runs into the kitchen and grabs some knives from the knife holder and flings them at her. They all spin through the air but none of them hit her. She dodges them all._ _This is no ordinary landlady_.

She runs into the kitchen and flips the table. _It seems as if she barely touches the things she flips at him. Weird._

 _Soon, the apartment is trashed and both of them are hurt. But soon, she has him pinned down under a chest of draws._

 _"I know who you are Percy Jackson," she snarls. "Who sent you? What are you doing here?"_

 _"I wasn't- sent," he stammers._

 _She presses the draws even harder on top of him. "Spit it out Jackson, I know you're working for Kronos. All you lot at Camp Half Blood are really,"_

 _"How-you know?" Stutters Percy._

 _"Don't think I didn't see the pen sword Jackson. You really have to hide it better," she forces the sword out of his hand_.

 _"I'll ne-ne never" stammers Percy_

" _Who sent you!?" Shouts the woman._ Beads _of blood formed around the sharp blade pressing into his skin._

 _Percy concentrates very hard on the water flowing through the pipes. It was his only chance. He sends the water bursting through_ _the pipes and into the room. The force of it pushes the woman back. She screams a terrible, bloodcurling scream._

 _In the moment he has, Percy leaps out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he had spotted something. He grabbed the photo off the fridge, accidentally tearing the corner off. It falls onto the floor. He sucks the water back into the pipes, deciding to save Annabeth the trouble of clearing that up as well as everything else._

 _Suddenly, in the doorway stood the landlady, holding Percy's sword. He kicks her stomach which makes her stumble back. He grabs the sword and runs into the lift. He slams the button and the doors close._

 _The lift arrives at the ground floor._ _Clutching the photograph, Percy Jackson bolts out of the door._

 **Author's note: So this is sort of half a chapter, I know it's very short but I want to upload this now.**

 **I'd like to thank all of you who have favourited, reviewed and followed this story, it really means so much to me.**

 **See you in another life,**

 **Leila**


	7. Chapter 7 NOT AN ACTUAL CHAPTER

**This is just a stupid little thing I wrote, it isn't a proper chapter, so jusr go ahead and skip it if you wish. I don't want to waste your precious time. Please don't get all annoyed in the comments section. Next chapter will be soon, promise.**

 _The small studio is a mess. Various papers litter the floor and desk, some with homework assignments, drawings and doodles or stories scribbled on them. The room is dimly lit by a small desk lamp and the remains of sunlight coming through the window._

 _Leila sits in a chair with her legs propped up on the desk, a bag of chocolates resting on her stomach. Various wrappers lie on the desk and floor. A boy- Paolo, sits opposite her, typing furiously on Fanfiction He has light, orangey- blonde curly hair._

 _"And then," says Leila between chews, "Annabeth walks up to Luke and kisses him deeply, a kiss more intense than she'd had in ages. Luke kissed her back, his hand in her hair and the other rubbing her back."_

 _Paolo stops typing and lowers the laptop lid so she could see his face._

 _"You realise," he says in his slightly French accent, "That you are writing chapter 15 now. What about chapter seven?"_

 _Leila pops a milky white chocolate into her mouth. "What about it? I don't feel like writing it. Anyway, writing these romance chapters is bloody easy, and a fast way to get views."_

 _Paolo raises the laptop's lid and goes to the story stats. "Look at your stats. They're going down."_

 _"What?" Leila removes her legs from the desk. "My stats?" She sees the graph. The bars got lower and lower since time had passed._

 _"Also, someone called ForeverLostInThought has reviewed this story twice already. You don't want to abandon them, do you?"_

 _Leila pauses. "I suppose not. Those revies amd favourites are what keep me going."_

 _"Exactly," he says, encouragingly. ForeverLostInThought is waiting. Start writing. That's all you're really good for,"_

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _"Just start writing."_

 _"Fine." Leila takes the last chocolate from the bag and tosses the bag in the vague direction of the bin, where it joins the various other unhealthy snack wrappers, boxes and packages._

 _Paolo opens to an empty document and turns the computer to face Leila. "Ready? Start writing," he says._


	8. Chapter 8

_I fear Luke_ _might now be in danger_. I restore the table and chairs back to their original positions. It had only been a short while since my conversation with Grover, and small snippets of it won't stop floating around my head.

 _He'll have to leave Australia and you can't come with him._ I had texted him a picture of the photograph and had asked him to call me. There has been no answer yet.

I have restored most of the living room, but it isn't the same without my pictures and plants. I suppose it doesn't matter, as the room fits my current mood. Dead and practically empty. That's about right. I sit down on the ripped sofa and check my phone. No notifications.

 _Who did Grover have to urgently meet with? What is the meeting about?_ I have no clue. And I really need to work on the other case, the one on the murder. But I need a computer. _Where can I go that is private and secluded and that I won't be bothered?_

Suddenly it hits me. I grab my coat off its hook and my bag and leave the house. I go to the landing and stop. I turn back and go into the house. I go into my bedroom and take the photo of Luke and I. I tuck it into my bag. I leave and lock the door.

The street is even colder in the evening. The wind whips my curly blonde hair everywhere and I pick up my pace. Piper always tries to convince me to get a car, even though I haven't complained about it once. But I like walking, and the cold has never bothered me anyway.

I get to the library and push open the door. The musky smell of old books and candles hits me immediately. It is only slightly warmer in here than it is outside. This library is rarely entered, mostly because of the new one two blocks ahead, which has thousands of books, 3D printers and the general feeling of warmth and comfort. This library is pretty much the opposite. Few dusty books line the ceiling-high shelves, it is evident that they haven't been touched for years. The ancient librarian doses away with his head in his hand drooling on an old open copy of Frankenstein. The room is lit with a few candles burning relentlessly on their tiny stubs. Cobwebs festoon the ceiling, their spider inhabitants in practically the same state as the librarian. The only reason that this place is still open is that it's ancient, and the librarian, however ancient he is, chases any authorities off with a stick that he always kept behind his desk. The perfect place to do research without being bothered.

I go to the back of the library where one lone computer sits. No one knows how it got there, it just came one day. I ignore it though and start on one of the shelves. This library is famous for two things, the elderly but fierce librarian and it's collection of books on international gangs and mafias. Yes. International gangs and mafias.

Apparently, this library used to thrive, it used to be full of wonderful titles, classics, nom fiction and fiction of all genres. But then most of them disappeared, leaving only a few dusty books sitting on even dustier shelves. How the library changed? No one knows. When did it change? Nobody can remember. But now it's publically accepted that that's the way it is and that's the way it's staying.

I hunt the shelves for the book I'm looking for, which doesn't take so long as there aren't that many books. But my search is fruitless. Nothing on the Redbrands at all. But I do find a large encyclopedia on international gangs. I blow the thick layer of dust off the leather cover and open it. I turn to the index where I find Redbrands on page 486. I go to that page and am disappointed by only small paragraph there is. I start to read.

 _Not much is known about the mysterious Redbrands. They communicate amongst themselves by using strange marks and symbols called 'Brands' which are completely untranslatable by anyone outside the gang. They are an international gang which recruit mainly by kidnap. The brands can sometimes be found underneath windowsills, on the edges of pavements, on pictures of people or on small rocks._

There is also an old faded picture of two people. Their faces are hidden with hoods which cover the front and back of their faces, with small slits for eyeholes. Not so different from the KKK, but the hoods aren't pointed and they're wearing black. They seem to be sitting on a short stone wall. One of them holds a paintbrush, showing that they had recently just painted some brands. The caption reads, _The only recorded sighting of Redbrand members, taken in 1553 in the South of Rome. Street name unknown._ That is all the information there is. I look for any other mentions of the gang in the book. There is no other mention of them anywhere. I copy out the text in code on a small piece of paper I had brought. I couldn't take a picture in case my phone is searched, and I couldn't take out the book in case my flat is searched again.

I am about to do more research when something passively aggressively floats into my mind. _The murder. I need to solve the murder. That's more important than this. I can solve this whenever, but_ _Reyna's waiting to find out who killed her boyfriend. So is his family. So are their friends._

I shut down the computer and stand up so briskly that the sleeping librarian stops snoring for a moment. I hold my breath. _Have I woken him from his death like sleep?_ He puts his head down again and keeps snoring, the long thread of spit finally parting from his lips and falling onto his book with an almost audible _splash._

I put my notebook back into my bag and exit the library, the gloominess of the inside matching the outside. It had started to rain.

I start up the street empty of any other pedestrians and cars. Thunder echoes through the darkening sky. This is my kind of evening.

I start walking towards my apartment. _The murder. The murder._ _A sleek black Porsche. 2 and 5 in the number plate. Had jumped in front of her._ I still have the notes that I took when she came in to see us, in fact, it's on the same notepad I have with me now.

After a short time, I reach my apartment building. Weirdly, the door to the landlady's apartment is open. I have never seen inside her apartment before. I can just see a floral patterned sofa sitting on a threadbare carpet. Something is strangely urging me to go in. I take a step forward, but I stop abruptly. I have no right to go into her apartment.

I go up to my flat. I'm really tired for some reason. I get in, open the door, and colapse onto a sofa.


	9. Chapter 9

**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! *Pops party popper and one streamer and five pieces of sad confetti fall to the floor. The house is silent.* I'm sorry that it has been forever since I have uploaded a chapter, but I have been busy with Christmas and family and all that. And also lazy. Anyway, I'll shut up, here is chapter 8.**

I wake up with a headache. And I feel dizzy. I had fallen asleep in my clothes and my hair is a mess. I stand up. It is 7:37 in the morning.

I trudge into the messy kitchen that I still need to finish tidying. There are still random utensils littering the floor. I open random cabinets looking for something I can't think of.

The murder, the murder. Reyna. Black Porsche. Anniversary. I must solve that, that's my job, isn't it? Not faff around trying to sort out my flat and looking up mafias that might not even exist. I need to sort out my priorities. Priorities, Annabeth, you have to focus on your priorities

I get up and change my clothes, abandoning the idea of having breakfast. I run my brush through my hair and tie it up into a lazy ponytail. I grab the pen-drive where I have all my files backed up. I have decided to go to one of the last internet cafes in London. There aren't usually many people there, so one can work there free of prying eyes. I put my coat on and step outside.

A tall, lean man with messy black hair and sea green eyes comes up to me. I have never seen him before. He is wearing an old orange t-shirt that is so faded that the only word I can see on it is "Camp" and dark jeans.

"Hi, are you Annabeth Chase by any chance?"

I freeze. My mind is racing. Who is he? How does he know? Why is he here? What is going on?

"Erm, um, no," I say, managing to keep a straight face.

"Ah, alright. Do you know her?"

"Y-yes. I am, uh, Amanda Goldstein, I live opposite Miss Chase. And who are you anyway?" I ask. I don't know why I said no, and in retrospect, it wasn't the best of ideas.

"I am Percy Jackson. I was-um, ah, told to meet Annabeth Chase, um, for work." He is not as good at acting as me. I raise one eyebrow a little.

"What is it about? She seems quite busy. I popped over with some tea cake yesterday, but she didn't answer the door. She goes out a lot of the time," I already start to feel more confident as Amanda now.

"Do you know any more about her? This is rather important you see," he asks. I notice that he is turning a pen in his right hand.

"Well, I do know that she has a boyfriend called Luke, but he lives in Australia. She works as a detective for the local police force. I think she specializes in homicides. She is very successful. Some say she is the best detective in London, you must have seen her in the papers a few times."

"I have." One last question, do you know who she works with?"

"She works on her own."

Percy looks like he wanted a better answer. He bites the corner of his lip.

"Thank you, Miss Goldstein. You have been very helpful."

"You're welcome. I'll tell Annabeth your name."

I walk off at a brisk pace. I hope he believed All what I said was true, except the name. He doesn't look and sound English though, he has an American accent.

I, at last, get to the internet cafe. The warm air hits my face as I enter. The owner glances up at me but doesn't say anything. He isn't the friendliest of people, but he doesn't need to be. I pay the money I need to pay to stay a couple of hours and buy a drink. I plug in the pen-drive and get to work.

I scan my notes on the murder that I have already written. The deadline for sending Grover my report is tomorrow, so I type up everything into a document:

 _Night of their 2 year anniversary_

 _Not connected, would probably not affect murderer's intentions except for jealousy?_

 _Saw man in a dark hoodie (No facial features were seen). When they turned onto the street- he matched walking paces, turned at the same time as them. Only ones on street._

 _Was he waiting for them? How long?_

 _Shot Jason dead- he jumped in front of her._

 _2 bullet wounds- one on chest and one on shoulder._

 _Who was he intending to shoot? Probably both as there were 2 shots, one towards the left and one to the right- if so, the plan failed_

 _Sleek black Porsche drove by and he jumped into back seat_

 _How long were they waiting? Who was in the car?_

 _Killer's intentions: Wanted to kill either one or both of them...jealousy? Revenge? Following orders?_

 _What don't we know: Who was in the car and how many people? Who is the killer? What are his true intentions? Why target them?_

I email him the document along with the pictures I took on the night. I slump back in my chair. So many questions, so few answers. What am I to do. Grover emails back saying thank you. In the email, he also mentions that Reyna called yesterday asking if we have any updates on the murder. There is also a file named "Jason Grace Autopsy". I open it.

 _Autopsy of Jason Grace_

 _Name: Jason Grace_

 _Age: 25_

 _Sex: Male_

 _Height: 1m 83cm*_

 _Weight: 78.4 kg**_

 _Cause of death: Two bullet wounds. One on clavicle bone (left shoulder) and one puncturing the rib-cage on the right._

The file also includes a diagram showing where the wounds are.

I reply to Grover, telling him to share the autopsy with Reyna and anything from my short report.

I log out of my computer and remove my pen-drive. I nod at the owner and exit. I walk two steps, and suddenly someone grabs me and pulls me into an alleyway.

"Hey, get off me!" I shout. I struggle, but they have a tight grip. They push me against a brick wall.

"Now listen," Percy Jackson says into my ear. "I know it's you Annabeth."

I try to move, to struggle, to get away from Percy. But I can't my body seems to freeze. He has his body pressed against mine, and I can feel his heartbeat under his shirt. He has an interesting scent about him- almost like the sea. It's quite a pleasant one if I might say so myself.

"Annabeth. I am sorry that it has to be this way. I wish it could be different. I need you to trust me. I am not your enemy,"

"Why should I trust someone who can't think of any better way to get someone's attention," I snarl at him. It's not the best comeback, but it did the trick.

Percy stepped back, allowing me to move. "Run, if you want. I won't stop you," he says, "But trust me, run now, and you'll lose an opportunity to find out more about yourself. You will find out more than any DNA test or BuzzFeed personality test could ever tell you. I am not joking. And I can prove everything I say."

Maybe I should run. If I run now, I'll never have to encounter Percy Jackson again. I can go and live my life and die as a normal person. But if I run now, the thought that I could have known more will always be in the back of my mind. I will be thinking of what I could have known. What I could have been. If I run now, I will be a coward.

"I am not going anywhere. What do you want from me?"

"What I am going to tell you is quite far-fetched. It took me a while for me to believe it myself. But I need you to trust me. I can prove everything I am about to say. But please, I need you to be open minded, to try and understand what I'm saying. Okay?"

This is probably the wrong thing to do. This is probably a bad idea. Oh well, there is no turning back now.

"Alright."

 **Author's note: Ooh cliffhanger! Next chapter will be out soon. I want to say, and this applies to this whole story. I have not watched any cop and detective TV series (except a bit of Sherlock. Sherlock is life) and so I do not know exactly how an autopsy or a detective reports are written. To end, I hope 2018 turns out better than 2017 for all us, and I'll see you next time.**

 ***As someone requested, I am putting the imperial measuements for when I use metric here. I hope this is helpful. *= 6.003937 **=11.77898 stone**


	10. Chapter 10

Percy doesn't make eye contact. He looks like he is having difficulty finding the right words to say what he wants to say to me.

"This is very hard to say. I don't think you'll believe me, actually, you probably will not as you're a smart person, and this has no logic whatsoever behind it. You see, I, and you, in fact, and many others are not completely human. We are different, we are, um well,"

"We are what?"

He looks up at me. His sea green eyes lock with mine. "Demigods. We are half children of Ancient Greek gods or goddesses"

"What? Demigods?" What is he talking about? He said I am a demigod too, that makes no sense. The ancient Greek Gods don't exist and they never did! "Wha-what do you mean? That's impossible! They only exist in Greek mythology! They aren't real and they can't be!"

Percy sighs a little. "I knew you'd take it like this. It's completely normal. I sound like some crazy idiot trying to convince you something that makes no sense."

"You do, a little. Can you tell me more though? You said you'd prove it,"

He straightens up a little. "Ah yes, I did say I'd prove it. I am the son of Poseidon, god of-"

"The sea," I interrupt. He nods.

"So I can control water and I don't need to breathe underwater. I can also talk to sea animals and other cool stuff." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a water bottle. He gives it a look, and with a flick of his hand, the water jumps out of the bottle and all hangs in the air.

"Is that proof enough?"

I stare at it. I have never seen a trick like it.

"How do- what- how did you do that?" I stutter out.

He guides the water back into the bottle and closes the lid. "I did that using the powers I gained from my father."

"But...you say I am one of you...demigods. What makes you say that?"

"A variety of things. Walk with me?"

We walk out of the alleyway. I notice he's twirling the pen again.

"I was the one who did all that to your apartment." He says.

"What? You! Why? Why did you take my mother's picture? Why did you draw a line over Luke's face?"

He swallows. "It wasn't just me. I'm going to tell you a few things about demigods. As well as the Ancient Greek Gods, there are also monsters that appear in the myths. They are all around us, in various disguises. They target demigods and will attack them. The more powerful your Godly parent is, the more they will target you. Your landlady, I hate to say, is one of them. She-"

"Her? No. I will not believe it. She is one of the most friendly ladies I know! She's peaceful and lives alone with her five cats! She has never attacked me or anything like that!"

"I wish I could say the same. I don't know what monster she is, but she is a monster. She is the one who caused the most damage to your flat actually. Although to be fair, I still did quite a bit myself."

"But, how come she hasn't ever gone after me if I am a demigod? And anyway, what proof do you have that I am a demigod? I have no powers. I can't control water, I can't do anything new or special like that,"

"Well remember, you might be the daughter of a minor God. They don't usually have big domains so he won't give you much power,"

"But..where are all the demigods? Like, do you all have a place where you all are?"

"We do, actually. It's called Camp Half Blood," he holds up his shirt. I now recognize the faded writing as "Camp Half-Blood". Under it is a picture of a winged horse, a Pegasus. "There we try and bring in as many young demigods as we can. They all stay in cabins with other kids of their same parent. There has been a law passed on Olympus that all Godly parents must claim their children before they turn twelve. By claim I mean to reveal that they are your parent, so your father is breaking the law,"

"But how can you be so sure it's my father and not my mother? And how can I believe you? How can I know that it's not all a trick?"

"Well, to answer your first question, Gods never stay with their children after they have them. It's pretty sad. They leave the other parent to deal with the child. Most of the time, the parent won't even know the truth about the god! My mum does though,"

I am silent for a moment. How can they allow it? How can they allow Gods to go down to Earth, have a child with some poor old person and then abandon them?

"And to answer your second question, there is no way to prove it other than what I've shown you. Well, of course, other than taking you to Camp Half-Blood. We are not even 100% sure that you are one! We are about 80% sure though,"

"Well great. I'm going to go pack my bags. I'm going to follow some near stranger to a place that might not exist, believing some far-fetched blab about Greek Gods being alive today, that's an amazing idea, isn't it? And then what if I'm not a demigod? I'll be stuck on Long Island. How would I get home? And if I am, will I have to live there? What about my job? My friends?" I say to Percy.

He looks quite taken aback for a second. And then he looks at me grimly. He sighs. "I knew I am the wrong person for this job," he says, more to himself than to me. "Why didn't they get Piper to do it?"

"Piper?"

"Piper. You know a Piper?"

"Piper Mclean, she's my best friend, why?"

Percy goes from looking grim to looking like a six-year-old boy on Christmas morning. "Call her, call her, call her, now! Tell her that you're with Percy Jackson and tell her to meet us in the nearest cafe. I'll explain later!"

Deciding to go along with it, I pull out my phone and call her. She answers on the second ring. "Hey Anna, what is it?"

"I'll explain later. Right now I'm with Percy Jackson, he says he knows you?"

I hear something smash. "Percy Jackson? Black, messy hair, sea green eyes, orange shirt? You sure?"

"Yes, he wants me to tell you to meet me at Coventry Cafe, now,"

"I'm coming. Ten minutes," she says. She hangs up.

"Lead the way, Chase," says Percy.

"Don't call me that. Only one person can call me that," I say, thinking of Grover.

"Alright then. I'll call you...Wise Girl. That's a great name!"

I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile a little. "I am pretty wise I suppose,"

Author's note: Dun Dun Duunnnn were you guys expecting that? Annabeth is probably a demigod! The big question now, is who is her father? Comment your guesses, I'm curious to see what you guys think.


	11. Chapter 11

_"Bring him forward, let's get this over with," he says sternly from his throne._

 _The woman leads a cloaked figure into the room. He moved across the floor in a way unlike any human would. More like gliding than walking, but at the same time more like walking than gliding. It was hard to tell._

 _"Who are you and why are you here?" He asks, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of the figure's face. He couldn't see it, but he was almost sure that the figure, the face under the cloak smiled._

 _"Why are you in this world?" Demands the man in the throne._ _"So you do know who I am," said the figure. The words left his mouth more like a breath than words_.

We sit at the table with steaming hot coffees in front of us. What happened in the 30 long minutes before now involved Percy asking, no, demanding blue coffee, Piper laughing her head off when that happened and them seeming to reunite for the first time in a while.

"So Anna, you, a demigod? Never thought! Your mum or dad?" Asks Piper.

"Dad," I say. "I am still in a lot of doubt about this whole thing, it seems absolutely far-fetched."

"Listen Wise gi- Annabeth, I was also-"

"Oh my god! Wise girl! Already got her a cute nickname! I ship it! Ship ship ship ship ship!" Shouts Piper. Heads turn and Percy and I both roll our eyes.

"Anyway, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, when I first found out I felt the exact same way, so it is completely understandable. When you come to Camp Half Blood, everything will be explained."

 _"Answer my other questions. Why are you here?"_

 _The hooded figure makes an obvious gesture to survey the room, although the man is sure that that has already been done._

" _Nice place you've got here. I'm not really one for elaborate decorations."_

 _The man on the throne scowls. "Please answer my questions and you can leave. I need you to tell me why you are here and what you're doing"_

Hold on. Back up a second. I just found out half an some crazy stories about the Greek Gods being real and that one of my best friends is a demigod and that I might be one, and you're already telling me to go to some camp that might or might not exist all the way in America! Even if I fully believed you guys, I have a job, I'm on a really huge case right now. I have a boyfriend, what on Earth am I going to tell him? Hi Luke, I'm off to America cos this guy just showed up and told me my dad's a fucking Greek God? I'm really sorry but I don't think I can."

"Annabeth, please. Trust me," Piper looks into my eyes. "You will want to do this, it'll be worth it. We will sort out everything. Please?"

I notice Percy give her a slightly dissaproving look.

"Oh stop that, I'm not doing anything bad, and besides, it will turn out the best for her in the end." Piper says in reply. I decide not to question it.

"I-uh, well, I'll-" I really want to do it. Although a minute ago I could not see any ways in which this is a good idea at all but now I feel completely different. I should go. After all they'll sort out everything, just like Piper said.

They both look at me expectantly. I take a sip of coffee.

"I think I have decided," I say, trying to sound as definite as I can.

" _Oh trust me, I can leave whenever I like," the hooded man says. "But I have a right to belong here. I haven't harmed anyone. I have just been minding my own buisiness honestly."_

 _"Well if you call what you're doing minding your own buisness then obviously you don't know what that_ _expression means,"_

 _"I don't think I am needed here anymore, I think I might just go back home.""To your proper home? Forever?"_

 _The hooded figure gives another one of his invisible smiles and then disappears._

"I will go with you,"

Piper jumps up and hugs me. She squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe.

"Piper- I- I can't" I stammer

"Oh. Sorry," she releases me. "But you're coming I'm so excited! It will just be like old times, won't it Perce!"

He nods. "So Annabeth, now that you've decided, Piper and I will sort stuff out, even with your job and stuff."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes yes, don't worry," says Piper. "Don't think about that, think about how your life will change!"

"I am not going to live at Camp Half Blood though. I am working on an important case and I cannot stay away too long."

They both nod. "Of course. You can only come for a few days, just to meet Chiron-"

"The leader of the Camp," injects Piper

"And the others. Well, there might not be many there, but we'll show you around and hopefully your Godly parent will claim you while you're there." Finishes Percy.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Your Godly parent shows everyone who they are in ways that differ from God to God. Who knows what yours will do, or when he'll do it."

"We could make an offering though? Ask him to do it soon?" Suggests Piper.

"That's what I bought this for," Percy holds up a bag with a croissant in it. "Let's get out of here."

We drain our cups and throw some change on the table.

I follow Percy and Piper down the chilly street. They seem to be talking about something that happened to them a long time and laughing. I don't try and ask them what they're talking about. We enter a small, dead end street with the entrance to an Underground Station.

Percy pulls the croissant out of the bag and breaks it into 2/3rds and 1/3rd. He puts the 2/3rds back into the bag and hands it to Piper. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights it.

He holds the lighter above the croissant and I see the edge start to slowly blacken.

"To the God who is Annabeth Chase's parent, please accept our offering." Says Percy

"We are all in the dark about who you are, so if you could claim her soon, we'd be very thankful," finishes Piper.

The piece of croissant is mostly blackened and lights on fire.

"Not the best of offerings, but it'll do," says Piper. Since the pastry has mostly burnt, Percy blows out the flame and throws it away


End file.
